


or: the one where neither of them are the good guys

by thatsmygvn (cougarlips)



Series: TWD Requests [23]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, POV Third Person, Torture, Violence, kinda???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:23:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cougarlips/pseuds/thatsmygvn
Summary: If there ever was a time where Jesus and Daryl had to play good cop versus bad cop, Jesus always played bad cop. True, Daryl could sneer and grimace as well as the best of them, but he was a natural empath; he couldn’t shut off his emotions as well as Jesus could, and Jesus himself had a knack for seemingly switching personalities on a dime, one second as gentle and sweet as he could be but the next wholly apathetic, oblivious to the way his cruel gaze affected the people he looked down his nose at.Prompt: "What about a compromise? I’ll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I’ll apologize."





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this is 100% inspired by a few malec oneshots i read my abloodneed on tumblr and another long malec au abt assassin/spy malec (called "kiss with a fist" by @clockworkswan here on ao3) and basically i wanted to try my hand at something Different and criminal desus was born???????? idk
> 
> trigger warnings for torture, guns/gun use, gunshots, mentions of murder, and referenced negan

If there ever was a time where Jesus and Daryl had to play good cop versus bad cop, Jesus always played bad cop. True, Daryl could sneer and grimace as well as the best of them, but he was a natural empath; he couldn’t shut off his emotions as well as Jesus could, and Jesus himself had a knack for seemingly switching personalities on a dime, one second as gentle and sweet as he could be but the next wholly apathetic, oblivious to the way his cruel gaze affected the people he looked down his nose at.

Daryl still stood in the back of their makeshift interrogation room and watched with an even expression as his partner worked, though.

He eyed Jesus’s hovering form, only a foot away from the cowering figure on the cold concrete floor. Blood soaked the man’s jeans, his hands trembling and shaking over what was left of his left kneecap. Daryl watched Jesus trace the barrel of the gun over the man’s right leg, and though something inside him shifted, he let nothing show.

“Tell us where he is,” Jesus crooned, and Daryl didn’t have to see his face to see the way Jesus’s eyes would have widened, his baby blues soft and open against the tan of his skin. “Tell us, and you can go,” he urged.

But the man said nothing. Instead he turned his expression up at Jesus, his eyes hard despite the tears leaving streaks against the dirt on his cheek – for his other eye was too dry, the tear ducts having been melted away along with the rest of his skin.

The man gathered himself, and for a split second Daryl and Jesus both thought he would finally speak, finally tell him where his boss called home, finally say something – but then he spat in Jesus’s face, acid clear as day in his expression.

Jesus sighed, standing up and stepping back, and with a calculated gesture he leveled his barrel with the man’s other kneecap and pulled his finger back, the sound of his flesh tearing echoing with the man’s howls of pain.

He turned around and faced Daryl, pulling his free hand up to wipe his bandana over his face. “You want to have a go?” Jesus asked.

Daryl nodded and walked forward, crouching low and level to the other man’s face.

“Dwight, right?” he asked, and the other man lifted his pain-ridden face to meet Daryl’s. “Let me tell you somethin’,” he continued, his voice soft, too quiet for Jesus to hear his words behind him. “I seem to remember a woman you fought to keep safe way back when. Sherry, right?”

Dwight’s eyes snapped up.

“If I see her,” Daryl continued, “I’ll kill her. Then I’ll come back ‘nd you can tell me if she deserved it or not.”

Dwight shook his head violently, and loudly he addressed both Daryl and Jesus. “I’ll tell you,” he gasped. “He calls it the compound. I can give you the guard shifts and the best and worst exits to use.” He turned terrified eyes back to Daryl. “Don’t bring her into this, _please_ , I’m begging–”

From behind Daryl, Jesus moved closer and brought the butt of his gun down on top of Daryl’s head, knocking him out quickly and soundly.

He pulled Daryl to his feet and removed his hat and bandana, leaving his warm, pink skin visible, and yes, Daryl thought, there was that tell-tale switch, because suddenly Jesus was running his fingers through Daryl’s hair and examining his features, meticulous in his care.

“What did you say to get him that quickly?” he asked, but then a second later he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. Then, with a promise in his voice, he leaned forward onto his toes and pressed a soft kiss to Daryl’s forehead. “We’ll get him for what he did to them. To you,” he said, the words a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> yell @ me on tumblr :^) [@thatsmygvn](http://thatsmygvn.tumblr.com) is my twd blog


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